XXIII.
THE TROOPS DISEMBARK.--THE ISLAND.
At four o'clock the last of the transports had entered the inlet, andrejoined the fleet. Soon after commenced preparations for the landing ofthe troops. The boats were lowered and manned, and the soldiers,descending from decks and spars, began to crowd into them. Knapsacks wereleft behind; the men taking with them only their arms, overcoats,canteens, haversacks, and cartridge-boxes, with three days' rations ofpork, beef, and hard bread, and forty rounds of ball cartridges. Downboth sides of the vessels they passed, in rapid regular files, pouringinto the boats. Their guns were taken as they stepped upon the stairs,and passed down to them as soon as they were embarked. Some took placesat the oars; the rest filed in fore and aft. It must have been an amazingspectacle to the enemy to witness these stirring and formidablepreparations for finishing the work the gunboats had begun. The troopswere jubilant, and eager for battle.
As fast as the boats were filled, they pushed from the stairs to makeroom for others, and lay upon their oars watching for the signals. Thesewere telegraphed from the flag-ship of each brigade. At the instant, theboats swarmed the water in miniature fleets, with oars flashing, flagsflying, and arms gleaming in the sun. Rowing to the flag-ship, or steamerdetailed for the purpose, they attached themselves under her stern in twolines as they arrived, each boat taking the painter of the one behind itThen, at a signal whistle, the steamers started for the shore, eachtowing its double string of boats.
In the mean time the fight between the fleet and the battery wascontinued,--rather languidly, however, on the part of the battery; and acouple of light draught gunboats, running in close to the shore,continued shelling the woods about Ashby's Harbor, to cover the landingof the troops.
When the steamers towing in the boats had arrived as near as the depth ofwater would permit, the signal whistles were sounded, the painters werecast off, the lines of boats broke simultaneously, the rowers took totheir oars and pulled with all speed for the shore. As soon as the prowsstruck, the men jumped out, dashing through mud and water to the land.Many did not wait for the boats to get in, but, in their eagerness tofollow their comrades, leaped overboard where the water was up to theirwaists. Some got stuck in the mire, and were helped out by those who cameafter them. Six thousand men were thus thrown upon the island at thefirst disembarkation; while the remainder of the troops on the transportswatched the brilliant scene, and cheered lustily when they saw the flagof the Union waving on the shore.
Frank's regiment was not yet disembarked. The boys were still in therigging, following with eager eyes the movements of the boats. Anexciting incident added interest to the scene. Before the boats landed, abody of rebels in ambush, waiting to receive them, were betrayed by thegleam of their muskets. A shell dropped discreetly into theirhiding-place, by one of the gunboats, sent them scampering, and thetroops landed without opposition.
"It's our turn now, boys!" cried Tucket. And they slipped from therigging, impatient to leap into the boats, and be put ashore. "I tell ye,won't it feel good to straighten out a fellow's legs once, on dry land!"
The men were generally of Seth's opinion; their long confinement onshipboard having become exceedingly monotonous and tiresome.
Frank was with his company. They loaded the boats to the gunwales. Thewater was still smooth, save where it was broken into waves and whirlingeddies by the sweep of oars. The men shouted joyously, and waved theircaps. Frank stood in the bow, and swung his cap with the rest. Butlooking back across the shining wakes at the forsaken schooner, a feelingof sadness came over him--a feeling of regretful memory, as of oneleaving home.
There she lay, motionless; hull and spars painted dark against the sunsetsky; her rigging, to the finest cordage, traced in exquisitely distinctlines upon that shining background--a picture of exceeding loveliness andpeace.
As the boats swept down towards the shore, and the schooner seemed torecede into the flaming west, the network of cordage became black cobwebson the sky, then melted away and vanished altogether. At the same time,the water, which the boats had troubled, grew smooth again, reflectingthe sunset glow, with the sombre hull and ebon spars painted upon it,until Frank saw the spectre of a double ship suspended in a doubleheaven.
And as the last view of the schooner was all beautiful, so his lastthoughts of her were all tender. He remembered no more against her thehardships of the voyage, the seasickness, the two gills of water a day.But that she had borne them faithfully through storms, that whether theyslept or waked she had not failed them,--this he remembered. And hissister's death, and all his sufferings and errors, and the peace of soulwhich had come to him at last, were associated now and henceforth, withhis memory of the ship swimming there in the illumined horizon. Only fora brief interval, like a wind that comes we know not whence, and goesagain we know not whither, touching us with invisible perfumed wings,these thoughts swept over the boy, and passed as quickly. And he turnedfrom gazing after the schooner to face the scenes before him. Nearer andnearer drew the boats to the island. Its woods and shores lay cool andtranquil in the evening light, and the troops there, half-hidden by thetall grass and the trees, were tinted with a gleam of romance.
It was now fast growing dark. Clouds were gathering in the sky. Fromtheir edges the last hues of the sunset faded, the moon was hid, and aportentous gloom fell upon the waves. The cannon were still thundering atintervals. The shells flew screaming through the air, and fell burstingon the fort or in the woods. It was now so dark that the flash of theguns had become lurid and sharp, and the meteoric course of theprojectiles could be traced by their fiery wake.
Amid this scene the boats entered the cove, and as the prows struck, orbefore, the excited soldiers leaped out, regardless of mud and water.
"Shouldn't wonder if somebody got a wet foot," said Tucket, in the midstof the plunging and plashing--himself in up to his hips. "'A horse! ahorse! my kingdom for a horse!' Here, Manly, take a grip of my coat tail.I'm longer legged than you."
"I'm all right," said Frank. "I've no gun to carry, and I can get along."And he floundered on as fast as the deep, clinging ooze would permit.
"This is what they call the sacred soil!" observed Harris. "Just thething, I should say, to breed rattle-snakes and rebels."
"I swan to man!" chimed in Tucket's voice from a distance,--for his longlegs had given him an advantage in the general race,--"there ain't noshore after ye get to't. It's nothin' but salt ma'sh, all trod to pudd'n'by the fellers that have been in ahead of us. I thought we was to be_landed_; 'stead of that, we're swamped!"
The men pushed on, through marsh and swamp, sometimes in mire and waterknee-deep, and now in tall, rank grass up to their eyes; the darknessadding to their dismal prospect.
"By Grimes!" mutters Jack Winch, "I don't think an island of this kind isworth taking. It's jest fit for secesh and niggers, and nobody else."
"We must have the island, because it's a key to the coast," says Frank.
"I wouldn't talk war, if I couldn't carry a gun," retorts Jack, madecross by the cold and wet.
"Perhaps before we get through you'll be glad to lend me yours," isFrank's pleasant response, as he hastens forward through grass whichwaves about his ears or lies trodden and tangled under foot.
"The gunboats have stopped firing," observes Atwater.
In fact, both gunboats and battery were now silent, the former havingdrawn off for the night.
The Drummer Boy Page 24